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United  States 
*  HEROES  * 


I 


The  Bugle  Call 
of  Old  Glory 


COMMEMORATED       BY        i 

Walter  Smilh  Griffith 

19     12 
Riant  Studio     -     Jersey    City 


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FIRST     EDITION 
5  50     CO  PIES 


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COPYRIGHT     (1912)     BY 

WALTER       SMITH       GRIFFITH 

ALL     RIGHTS     RESERVED 


:N?       187 


IIKNRV     V.     FRIT/.     PRINTKU 
(!0.1  Jersey  Avenue.     Jersey  City 


BELL  PHOTO  STUDIO,  JERSEY  CITY 


MY  LAND  OF  DAZZLING  GLORY 

Of  thee,  my  native  land,  my  sou!  is  proud, 
Of  thy  broad  plains  and  rolling  hils  ; 

Thou  art  my  father,  yea,  my  mother  dear. 
The  universe  thy  being  thrils ; 

Thy  hand  hast  broken  many  galling  chains, 
To  be  thy  son  my  proudest  claim. 

Thou  art  so  fair,  thy  way  so  just, 
The  world  of  care  and  sordid  lust 

Quails  back,  afraid,  at  thy  command. 

Thy  glory  shines  thruout  the  earth. 
Thy  thriling  chimes  wil  e^er  giv  birth 
To  stiring  deeds  and  sacrifice. 

And  when  my  time  has  come  to  sing 
My  passing  prayer  to  Him,  my  King, 
May  I  with  glory  join  the  host 
In  battle  to  enrich  thy  fame. 


iiipii|iiHi|iii|iiijiiHii}iiii}!i^^^^ 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

EMANCIPATOR 


•  •••  • 

\  •: : 


Abraham  Lincoln. 

(Emancipatof.) 

Within  a  lowly  prairie  cabin  home,  i 

Whose  carpet  was  the  virgin  prairie's  loam, 
A  child  was  born  unto  a  humble  pair — 
A  gift  of  love  to  grace  the  fondest  care, 
And  mother  heart  to  feed  his  mind  rare  fare , 
Tho  Want  and  Struggle  were  around  the  board 
To  tax  to  utmost  father's  slender  hoard, 

Yet,  stil,  one  more  was  welcome. 

The  boy  grew  strong  and  sturdy  in  his  might, 
He  grasped  the  Sword  of  Truth  with  ready  right, 
He  split  the  rails  that  marked  his  daily  toil 
With  cheerful  mien  and  thought  no  one  could  soil 
W^ith  tricky  art  or  other  rankling  boil ; 
And  how  his  righteous  wrath  would  tear  the  wretch 
W^ho  dared  strive  hard  to  force  his  soul  to  stretch 
A  link  in  Honor's  armor. 

Then  on  and  up  he  won  the  rocky  path 

That  leads  away  from  Sodom's  sordid  wrath — 

The  path  that  runs  thru  Satan's  great  stronghold, 

Where  daily  souls  are  sold  to  gain  the  cold 

And  scanty  comfort  of  the  earthly  mold; 

The  mazes  of  the  legal  art  he  tore 

Until  the  title  just  he  proudly  bore 

Of  Honest  Abe,  the  lawyer. 


Then  politics  was  satan's  next  bold  game 
To  lure  his  soul  away  from  Freedom's  fame, 
But  on  in  dauntless  majesty  he  swept, 
And  e'en  the  wind  roared  by  in  gusts  that  wept 
For  dreadful  carnage  that  old  Time  stil  kept 
Within  the  womb  of  years  to  try  his  worth 
When  he  should  guide  fair  Freedom's  ship  of  earth 
Thru  war  and  public  clamor. 


As  President  his  path  was  torn  with  shel 
From  Satan's  guns  of  brothers'  fiercest  hel ; 
But  Lincoln,  Abraham,  was  true  to  God; 
He  built  his  faith  on  Father's  grandest  sod— 
The  purging  fire  of  Freedom's  smiting  rod 
Poured  out  to  strike  the  shackles  from  the  meek, 
To  give  to  them  a  chance  to  Freedom  seek, 
With  right  to  freely  labor. 


The  tramping  feet  of  sturdy  martial  men, 
The  clash  of  arms  of  brothers  of  the  ken 
Of  Freedom's  Flag,  the  roar  of  cannon  loud, 
The  grief  and  pain  of  war's  enormous  cloud. 
Outpouring  wo  to  cleanse  the  surging  crowd, 
Bowed  down  his  head  with  weight  of  many  lives 
That  paid  the  price,  for  Freedom  rarely  strives 
Without  a  frightful  rending. 


10 


And  when  grand  peace  spread  o'er  this  mighty  land, 
'Twas  then,  with  waves  of  steel  at  his  command — 
Exultant  veterans  of  gory  fields — 
He  showed  the  highest  form  that  Freedom  yields— 
A  holy  love  that  God's  great  blessing  shields — 
He  put  away  the  thoughts  of  flesh  renown, 
He  placed  upon  his  brow  the  laurel  crown — 
A  democratic  ruler. 

But  Fate  had  marked  the  end  of  his  life's  task 
And  called  for  his  great  soul  to  leave  the  mask; 
Within  a  wicked  brain  the  deed  was  pland, 
And  helish  fires  the  passion  further  faned 
Unto  a  deed  the  nation  most  unmaned. 
In  proudly  lofty  station  stands  his  name, 
His  imprint's  deep  upon  the  scroll  of  fame 
As  Father  Abe,  the  martyr. 


Republics. 

And  stil  the  cause  of  Freedom  spreads, 
Despite  the  fight  of  crowned  heads, 
From  north  to  south,  from  east  to  westj 
The  people  realize  'tis  best 

To  rule  themselves. 


11 


Thantegiving   Day. 

Come  sing  a  hymn  to  Freedom's  King, 

Let  anthem  to  high  Heaven  ring, 

Our  hearts  are  ful  of  joy  today 

And  praise  is  due  our  Father's  sway ; 

He's  brought  us  thru  a  trying  year 

And  freed  our  hearts  from  chiling  fear ; 

Our  arms  have  won  rare  triumphs  grand 

O'er  foes  in  far-off  foreign  lands  ; 

He*s  burst  the  chains  of  many  slaves. 

He's  soothed  our  tears  o'er  heroes'  graves ; 

Now  bow  our  heads  and  humbly  pray 

For  aded  blessings  on  our  way ; 

Then  sing  with  vim  the  Nation's  songs. 

Loud  cheer  our  sons,  to  them  belongs 

The  credit  due  for  daring  skil 

On  ocean  deep,  up  steepest  hil, 

And  ring  the  notes  on  Freedom's  bel. 

Ring  loud  its  voice,  ring  clear  its  swel 

All  o'er  the  land  where  freemen  dwel. 

That  it  may  weave  its  mystic  spel. 


12 


Sumter. 

A  frightful  roar,  the  storm  of  war  ; 

Spread  quickly  far,  with  rending  jar. 
Thru  Freedom's  streets,  with  pulsing  beats 
Of  drum  and  fife  to  call  to  strife, 
To  rouse  each  heart  to  bear  its  part, 
To  loose  the  purse,  to  wounded  nurse, 
When  rebels  fired  on  Sumter. 

The  people  hear,  with  anxious  ear, 
Each  cannoned  note  to  battled  moat, 
And  pulses  beat  with  fervid  heat. 
While  every  sense  is  drawn  and  tense 
Lest  Freedom's  crown  and  fair  renown 
Shal  trail  the  dust  for  serfdom's  lust, 

While  rebels  fight  with  Sumter. 

A  cry  of  rage,  the  battle  gage 

Was  thrown  afar  by  loyal  tar 

And  soldier  brave,  on  land  and  wave ; 

To  arms!    To  arms!   From  towns  and  farms 

A  rolling  wave  of  freemen  brave 

Came  dashing  fast  to  face  the  blast 

When  rebels  captured  Sumter. 


13 


Our  Emblem. 

Caressing  breezes  waft  no  nobler  emblem  high ; 
Tis  Heaven's  quick  relief  to  slaving  people  nigh 
From  suffering's  travail  and  sorrow's  bitter  cry ; 
A  strong  and  sure  uplift  to  bosom's  hopeless  sigh; 
The  refuge  close,  direct  from  tyrants'  dirgeful  die, 
And  fiting,  true  release  from  serfdom's  thralling  eye- 
The  Flag  of  our  great  Fatherland, 
The  thril  of  each  rare  hero  grand, 
The  rock  round  which  the  valiant  stand, 
The  boon  of  our  brave  fighting  band — 
Fair  Freedom's  Starry  Crown, 


Our  riag. 

The  stripes  of  white  are  an  emblem  of  light, 
The  stripes  of  red  are  our  footprints  of  might, 
The  gleaming  stars  in  the  azure  so  bright 
Are  Freedom's  beacon  from  serfdom's  dread  blight. 


14 


Uncle  Sam's  Host. 

What  nation  dare  disturb  Old  Glory  land, 
Where  rich  and  poor  march  forward  hand  in  hand 
To  loose  the  chains  from  many  weeping  slaves, 
To  ask  a  fair  account  for  needless  graves  ? 

Where  can  you  find  a  land  so  rich  and  grand. 

So  ful  of  Charity  and  Love's  command 

To  make  each  soul  a  brother  in  the  fight 

To  reap  the  best  that  comes  from  Freedom's  might? 

Where  can  you  find  a  people  that  old  Self 
Has  lost  so  strong  a  hold  upon  their  pelf, 
Where  children  ad  a  charm  unto  each  hearth 
And  rich  and  poor  rejoice  in  prattlers'  mirth? 

Where  are  the  chances  half  so  good  and  fair 
To  gain  a  place  upon  the  golden  stair. 
And  where  may  poor  achieve  so  much  renown 
As  under  Freedom's  shining  Starry  Crown? 

Our  fathers  faced  their  fate  and  friendship  broke, 
Determined  to  throw  oflf  the  galling  yoke. 
When  taxed  without  a  voice  in  making  laws. 
And  now  the  earth  resounds  with  Freedom's  cause. 


15 


Fair  Freedom's  land  has  shed  its  richest  blood 
To  stem  the  tide  of  serfdom's  awful  flood, 
And  precious  lips  have  madly  bit  the  dust 
To  pay  the  price  for  lordlings'  greedy  lust. 

The  day  is  near  when  Freedom's  mighty  host 
Wil  make  the  crumbling  thrones  yield  up  the  ghost 
When  thru  the  climes  the  chimes  wil  proudly  sing 
A  paen  grand  unto  our  righteous  King. 


Within  a  lowly  manger  slept  a  child, 

Who  rose  and  bore  the  cross  of  sin  that  wild, 

Licentious  satan  pland  for  our  disgrace. 

By  Savior's  precious  Blood  we  gained  new  place. 

Tho  He  is  risen,  onward  flies  the  Word, 
Until  by  hosts  the  theme  is  gladly  heard; 
The  mighty  Truth  is  sweeping  down  the  years, 
Upheld  by  Freedom's  sons,  'mid  mothers'  tears. 


16 


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•*•**••*•••■* 


GEN.    WINFIELD    SCOTT    HANCOCK 


Gettysburg. 

The  Battle  of  Gettysburg  was  the  keystone  of  the 
Civil  War.  The  men  were  harangued  by  their  com- 
manders before  the  conflict.  So  fierce  was  the  re- 
sultant zeal  of  the  combatants  that  when  ammunition 
became  exhausted  the  battle  was  continued  hand-to- 
hand,  like  unto  the  days  when  knights  were  bold. 

The  Federals  held  Gettysburg  and  the  surrounding 
country.  It  was  a  natural  battlefield,  and  they 
strengthened  the  position  by  every  means  in  their 
power. 


The  First  Day. 

July  1,  1863 — The  Confederates  commenced  their 
assault  at  9  A.  M.  from  the  northwest  with  a  savage 
attack  on  the  skirmishers  along  the  Chambersburg 
Road.  Seminary  Ridge  was  held  by  the  engineers  to 
be  the  key  to  the  position,  and  here  was  where  the 
Federals  made  their  stand.  Desperate  fighting  ensued. 
Reinforcements  were  hurried  up  by  the  commanders 
on  both  sides.  The  Confederates  posted  batteries  to 
command  the  Federal  position,  and  the  frightful  cross- 
fire and  repeated  charges  by  the  outnumbering  Con- 
federate force  turned  the  tide  of  battle  against  the 
Federals,  who  retreated  through  Gettysburg  in  great 
confusion.  The  Confederates  took  about  5,000  pris- 
oners. 


21 


The  Second  Day* 

July  2,  1863 — Gen.  Winfield  Scott  Hancock  arrived 
and  took  command  of  the  Federals,  who  massed 
around  Little  Round  Top  and  Round  Top,  to  the  south 
of  Gettysburg,  where  one  of  the  most  valiant  battles 
in  history  followed.  The  Confederates  commenced  the 
attack  from  the  west  at  half-past  three  in  the  after- 
noon, swarming  in  on  the  Federal  skirmishers  in  the 
peach  orchard  to  the  west  of  Devil's  Den,  whom  they 
drove  back  to  their  main  position  at  Little  Round 
Top,  where  a  bitter  fight  ensued.  The  Confederates 
were  beaten  back.  They  reformed  and  again  attacked. 
The  fighting  was  of  a  sanguinary  character,  and  the 
Federals  were  driven  back  to  Cemetery  Hill,  resisting 
every  step.  Gen.  Hancock  then  took  personal  com- 
mand, and  there  were  furious  charges  and  counter- 
charges. The  Federals  brought  up  more  batteries, 
and  their  flank  and  cross-fires  caused  the  Confederates 
to  halt.  Both  sides  bivouaced  on  the  field.  Nothing 
decisive. 


22 


The  Third  Day. 

July  3,  1863 — At  daybreak  the  Federal  artillery 
opened  the  engagement.  The  Confederates  attacked 
all  along  the  Federal  line,  finaly  retiring  to  their  posi- 
tion on  Seminary  Ridge.  From  1  to  3  P.  M.  a  furious 
artillery  duel  took  place  between  the  Confederate 
artillery,  about  115  guns,  and  the  Federal  batteries, 
about  80  guns.  Shortly  after  3  o'clock  the  Federal 
general.  Hunt,  ordered  the  fire  to  cease  in  order  to 
cool  the  guns  and  bring  up  more  ammunition  in  prep- 
aration for  the  contest  at  close  quarters,  which  he 
judged  would  soon  follow.  Gen,  George  E.  Pickett 
believed  Gen.  Hancock's  batteries  were  silenced  and 
ordered  an  advance,  personaly  leading  the  charge.  A 
mile  and  a  quarter  separated  the  armies,  and  Pickett's 
brigade  faced  a  withering  fire  of  solid  shot,  shel  and 
canister,  which  tore  great  holes  in  its  alinement.  To 
this  was  aded  volleys  of  musketry.  They  paused,  but 
again  came  on  with  desperate  valor,  and  were  only 
repulsed  after  a  terrific  hand-to-hand  encounter.  The 
Federals  captured  about  4,500  prisoners.  There  was 
more  fighting,  but  the  Federals  had  won  the  day. 
From  this  point  the  star  of  the  Confederacy  com- 
menced to  wane. 


Forces  engaged — About  100,000  men  on  each  side. 
Federal  loss — 23,000  men  (about). 
Confederate  loss — 26,000  men  (about). 


23 


The  Storm  Breate. 

Far  northward  swept  the  rebel  tide — 
"ril  camp  down  by  the  Hudson's  side," 
Quoth  Lee,  with  dashing  southern  pride; 
But,  grimly  brave,  the  northmen  dare 
The  chivalry  of  battles'  flare. 
And  wait  the  issue  calmly  there 

On  Gettysburg's  bold  field. 

The  sun  shone  down  resplendent  rays 
Upon  the  hosts  beneath  its  blaze. 
Like  leashed  tigers  held  at  bay, 
Awaiting  but  the  word  to  slay 
For  what  each  held  to  be  the  right 
And  hoped  to  win  by  force  of  might 
And  gallant  conduct  there. 

The  grays,  with  dashing  lilt  and  yel. 
Ope  wide  the  doors  of  War's  dread  hel ; 
The  blues  as  stubbornly  contest 
Their  hold  upon  the  Ridge's  crest. 
While  back  and  forth  the  raging  roar 
Of  flashing  guns  the  ether  tore 
As  on  the  battle  raged. 


24 


The  tide  runs  strong  against  the  blues, 
Who  battle  on,  with  aching  thews, 
But  reinforcements  swerve  the  flood, 
The  battlefield  runs  red  with  blood, 
With  might  and  main,  with  flashing  steel, 
With  storms  of  shot,  they  slaying  reel 
In  deadly  combat  grim. 

The  gray's  reserves  come  swarming  fast, 

Like  angry  bees,  in  battle  blast, 

The  blues,  outnumbered,  slowly  yield, 

They  stubbornly  contest  the  field, 

But  enfilading  batteries 

Fil  ful  their  cup  with  miseries — 

The  blues  are  beaten  back. 


25 


When  darkness  sent  its  mantle  down 
It  hid  the  battle's  beetling  frown, 
And  'neath  its  cloak  the  blues  retire 
Thru  Gettysburg,  confusion  dire, 
To  where  their  comrades  wait  the  fray 
They  know  wil  come  with  thriling  sway 
When  foemen  storm  their  line. 


The  Reaper  garners  fast  the  sons 
'Mid  thundrous  roar  of  mighty  guns, 
As  thru  the  day,  with  gruesome  flare, 
Dread  armaments*  momentous  blare 
Unrolls  the  scroll  of  dazzling  fame 
Fair  Freedom's  sons  reap  from  the  flame 
Of  battle's  dashing  thrall. 


26 


HancocK'5  Heroism. 

Into  the  breach,  with  gallant  dash, 
With  fearless  scorn  of  combat's  clash, 
Rode  Hancock  on  his  fiery  steed 
To  cheer  with  buoyant  word  and  deed. 

His  soul  soared  o'er  the  battle's  swings 
On  Energy's  high-powered  wings ; 
Where  raging  tempest  fiercely  blew. 
From  charge  to  charge  he  quickly  flew.. 

Tho  wounded  sore  he  kept  the  field 
Until  he  saw  the  foemen  yield, 
Until  his  men's  victorious  cheers 
Came  welcome  to  his  anxious  ears. 


Where  Glory,  with  her  perfumed  breath, 
Led  o'er  the  yawning  jaws  of  death. 
They  strove  in  Freedom's  glorious  name 
To  cleanse  our  land  from  serfdom's  shame. 


And  many  precious  sons  were  slain 
That  slaves  might  Freedom's  honors  gain 
As  row  on  row  the  rebel  steel 
Was  trampled  'neath  their  valiant  heel. 


27 


Pickett's  Charge. 

For  two  long  days  the  storm  of  war 
O'er  Gettysburg's  red  field 

Had  swept  the  hosts  both  near  and  far, 
While  foemen  slashed  and  reeled, 

And  rank  on  rank  the  leaden  spray 

Had  lain  the  slain  of  blue  and  gray. 

But  Fate  stil  held  the  victor's  crown 
Past  noon  the  third  bright  day ; 

From  Cemetery  Ridge  the  frown 
Of  cannon,  grim,  to  slay ; 

Debouching  from  the  forest  del, 

The  grays,  in  spite  of  cannons'  knel. 

Brave  Pickett  led  the  long  gray  line, 
Torn  oft  with  shot  and  shel, 

At  double  quick,  formation  fine. 
Loud  rang  the  Southern  yel, 

As  forward,  with  a  swinging  stride, 

They  sought  to  turn  the  battle's  tide. 

From  Seminary  Ridge  they  came, 

A  useless  sacrifice; 
The  air  throbed  with  the  deadly  hum. 

And  hearts  seemed  in  a  vise 
As  canister  and  grape  mowed  fast 
The  men  in  gray  with  fiery  blast. 

28 


And  on  and  on,  with  scarce  a  pause, 

Across  the  zone  of  death, 
The  flower  of  the  Southern  cause, 

Swept  by  the  cannon's  breath. 
Endurance  great  and  courage  rare. 
Charged  on  the  blues  with  reckless  dare. 

A  flanking  force  came  runing,  then 
Their  musketry  poured  in, 

And  groans  and  shrieks  of  wounded  men 
Increased  the  awful  din; 

The  right  then  yielded  up  the  field. 

Beneath  such  fire  the  bravest  reeled. 


Then  hand-to-hand  the  fight  was  waged. 

And  forward  once  again, 
The  conflict  fiercely  onward  raged. 

Their  path  was  heaped  with  slain ; 
The  blues  retired  behind  their  guns. 
Which  belched  their  double-shoted  tons. 


No  aid  for  them  thus  madly  sent, 

Their  star  began  to  fade, 
Retiring,  sadly,  back  they  went. 

Their  history  was  made ; 
The  King,  from  His  grand  judgment  seat, 
Had  set  upon  their  brows  "Defeat." 


29 


Memorial  Dav. 

Each  nation  that  is  great  and  just 
Rare  honor  pays  to  heroes'  dust, 
Each  flag  that  breezes  gaily  wave 
Sings  gladsome  tribute  to  the  brave. 

When  month  of  May  is  at  its  end 
Fair  Freedom's  sons  their  footsteps  bend 
To  churchyards  where  the  heroes  sleep, 
And  o'er  the  clay  they  softly  weep. 

High  shaft  and  grandly  worded  phrase 
Enhance  the  worth  of  hero  craze, 
But  privates  in  their  modest  graves 
Are  just  as  much  the  bravest  braves. 

What  more  could  man  ask  of  his  God 
Than  mound  of  earth  and  fragrant  sod. 
Wherein  his  weary  limbs  to  rest 
And  wait  the  time  for  His  behest? 

No  nobler  strain  for  them  can  ring. 
No  choirs  can  chant  or  sweetly  sing 
More  honor  to  their  humble  clay 
Than  flowers  strewn  on  blue  and  gray. 

With  heroes  head  the  marching  throngs ; 
To  them,  indeed,  all  praise  belongs  ; 
Get  them  to  sing  the  old  war  songs  ; 
Scourge  not  the  old  with  sneering  thongs. 


30 


Too  soon  their  heads  wil  lie  at  rest 
Besides  comrades — the  Nation's  blest- 
In  honor  cross  on  silent  breast 
Emblazoned  arms  with  Nation's  crest. 

Our  dazzling  stars  stil  o'er  you  wave, 
Ye  dead  and  living  heroes  brave ; 
Let  tears  of  peace  enrich  each  grave 
Of  them  who  died  their  cause  to  save. 

Plant  roses  on  their  resting  place. 
Let  ivy  now  their  tombstones  grace ; 
Deep  down  within  our  heart  of  hearts 
We  cherish  love  that  ne'er  departs. 


Meek  Jesus  came  to  save  from  sin, 
To  teach  the  way  to  brothers  win, 
His  Blood  hath  bought  out  sinful  clay 
From  Satan's  dark  and  deadly  way. 


31 


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32 


.  -__   ^-ij/v-v' 


MEMORIAL    DAY    SCENE 


PRESIDENT     WILLIAM    McKINLEY 


President  William  McKinlev. 

In  calm,  judicial,  fearless  way- 
He  steers  the  Ship  of  State 

Past  beetling  rocks  of  jealous  fray 
To  reach  her  shining  fate ; 

He  won  his  spurs  with  courage  rare, 
With  skil  and  daring  dash. 

His  victories  now  are  ones  of  care. 
Red  tape  the  combat's  clash ; 

Unworthy  sons  would  shirk  the  work, 
No  privates  would  they  be, 

They  bar  the  way,  with  foolish  quirk. 
Of  Freedom's  gallant  free. 


4r 


The  Destruction  of  tr\e  Maine. 

(Fcbfuary  15^  1898.) 

At  anchor  swung  a  gallant  ship 

Within  Havana's  port; 

No  need  for  war's  resort 
To  man  her  guns  and  bravely  fight 
Upon  that  calm  and  peaceful  night. 

She  seemed  at  peace  with  all  mankind 
While  gently  swinging  there ; 
No  need  for  trumpets'  blare, 
Or  officers  the  range  to  find 
For  guners  down  behind  steel  blind. 

Old  satan  found  a  fertile  soil 

Wherein  to  sow  a  seed 

Unto  a  dastard  deed, 
And  crafty  men  had  placed  a  mine 
That  tore  apart  the  cruiser  fine. 

It  was  a  sneaking,  wicked  act 

That  hurled  the  Maine  to  doom; 
Around  the  world  the  loom 
Of  wires  announced  the  anguished  wail 
That  freemen  raised — a  mighty  flail. 


42 


Then  and  Now. 

The  Spaniards  bold, 

In  days  of  old, 

So  we've  been  told. 
Could  conquer  peaceful  tribes; 

With  fire  and  sword 

They  came  aboard 

For  natives'  hoard, 
And  promised  life  for  bribes. 

And  when  the  natives  gave  their  hoard 
Did  Spaniards  cease  the  fire  and  sword? 
Where,  then,  had  Spanish  honor  flown 
When  flames  of  lust  were  widely  blown 
To  scorch  the  soil  of  natives'  home. 
And  dons  reeked  red  with  natives'  blood 
To  stil  the  gold  and  bestial  flood  ? 

'Twas  fun  to  laugh  and  jeer  and  sneer 

And  brag  of  name,  with  haughty  leer. 

In  days  of  old. 


43 


In  modem  times 

The  Spanish  crimes 

'Mid  Southern  cHmes 
Aroused  our  Yankee  ire; 

No  more  with  sword 

Shal  duke  and  lord 

Reap  rich  reward, 
Or  rule  by  ruin  dire. 

The  tricky  Spaniards  were  the  same 
Vile  creatures,  foul,  and  of  il-fame; 
They  wrecked  the  Maine  with  dastard  skil, 
They  showed  how  gladly  they  would  kil 
Each  daring  soul  who'd  brave  their  wil ; 
But  times  were  changed  and  Yankee  dash 
Soon  checked  their  way  with  awful  crash. 

They  had  no  time  for  joke  or  jest 
When  cannons  spoke  the  trite  behest 
Of  Yankees  bold. 


44 


War  With  Spain. 

Starvation,  lust  and  pain,  with  wanton  hands, 
Had  Spain  spread  wide  o'er  her  colonial  lands; 
The  suckling  babes  at  Spain's  unwholesome  breast 
Were  doomed  outright  to  years  of  wild  unrest 
Or  torn  by  dogs  at  soulless  dons'  behest. 

But  angels  of  this  world's  all-wise,  great  King 
Had  kept  the  score  until  the  mighty  ring 
Of  wo  had  grown  unto  a  tempest  wail 
That  tore  apart  proud  Spain  with  flashing  flail 
Of  Vengeance's  sword — the  golden  holy  graiL 

Then  one  by  one  her  colonies  were  lost. 
But  stil  she  reckoned  not  the  dreadful  cost 
Of  soulless  deeds,  and  onward  rushed  her  fate 
With  heartless  jest  and  frightful  lust  to  sate 
Her  greed  for  gold  and  bloody  vampire  trait. 

At  last  she  struck  upon  fair  Freedom's  rock, 
Her  ship  of  state  sustained  a  rending  shock 
And  split  in  twain  before  the  tempest  ceased ; 
Her  empire  to  one-half  had  then  decreased, 
And  soon  she'll  pay  her  all  unto  the  fleeced. 


45 


Battle  of  Manila. 

Outside  Manila  Bay  the  rippling  tide 

Bore  on  its  bosom  broad  the  Yankees'  pride — 

Brave  Dewey's  men  awaited  deadly  fray 

With  vessels  changed  from  white  to  somber  gray ; 

No  shiver  crept  thruout  their  manly  clay, 

But  like  a  fiery  blast  the  surging  blood 

Spured  on  the  sturdy  seamen  with  its  flood. 

Aboard  each  gallant  ship  the  hardy  tars 

Had  fixed  the  means  for  meeting  battles'  jars; 

The  captains  met  below  the  polished  decks 

Of  Commodore's  trim  home,  and  pland  the  wrecks 

That  caused  bold  dons  to  tremble  lest  their  necks 

Should  feel  the  steel  with  which  they'd  slain  the  weak 

And  dyed  the  soil  that  they  might  vengeance  wreak. 

When  rumor  flew  and  grew  with  steady  pace 
That  soon  those  dons  might  know  the  sad  disgrace 
They  wel  deserved,  the  gallant  seamen  strode 
With  hurried  steps  to  place  each  steel  abode 
In  shape  to  meet  the  best  that  ever  rode 
The  billows  high  or  stemed  the  swinging  tide 
Within  a  port  when  belching  guns  were  tried. 


46 


"Remember  wel  the  Maine,"  the  slogan  rang, 

In  mighty  chorus  thus  the  seamen  sang, 

And  burning  words  rose  from  the  jackies'  lips : 

"Just  wait,"  they  cried,  "and  see  who  holds  the  whips,. 

The  cruisers  of  the  dons  or  Yankee  ships  I" 

And  cheer  on  cheer  rose  high  unto  the  sky 

When  forth  they  went  to  do  or  bravely  die. 

All  lights  went  out,  and  midnight's  mantling  shroud 
Encompassed  round  the  Yankees'  cruisers  proud 
As  up  the  channel  broad,  in  stern  array, 
Olympia  in  front  to  feel  the  way. 
They  steamed  upon  that  glorious  first  of  May — 
The  day  that  threw  a  broad  and  dazzling  light 
Into  the  eyes  that  read  of  Freedom's  might. 

Beside  the  guns  were  figures  grim  and  grave, 
Which  waited  word  to  send  our  message  brave 
Of  might  unto  a  dark  and  stubborn  foe, 
Whose  bloody  tread  had  fild  the  world  with  woe^ 
Whose  course  had  long  been  ever  downward  flow. 
And  who,  with  hauty  brow  and  iron  hand. 
Had  sought  to  gird  the  earth  with  his  harsh  band. 


47 


A  flash  and  roar — Corregidor  spake  strong 
A  harsh  command  that  bade  our  ships  prolong 
Their  stay  until  the  word  that  all  was  wel — 
But  no !  the  time  had  come  for  Spanish  knel ; 
The  answer  quick  was  sent — a  bursting  shel — 
Whose  fragments  laid  the  gunners  low  in  death 
And  paved  the  way  for  more  from  cannons'  breath. 

Then  onward  up  the  stream  in  single  file 

The  Yankee  cruisers  steamed  in  wining  style, 

While,  silent,  at  their  posts,  the  gunners  wait — 

No  fear,  but  feelings  keen  of  awful  hate 

When  thoughts  crowd  fast  of  gallant  Maine's  harsh  fate. 

And  visions  came  of  many  comrades  where 

The  sharks  glide  by  and  at  their  corpses  glare. 


And  on  until  the  sun's  resplendent  rays 

Revealed  Manila  to  their  anxious  gaze, 

And  further  on,  where  Spanish  cruisers  wait 

In  readiness  to  strike  and  hatred  sate. 

With  Cavite's  huge  guns  to  indicate 

Their  wilingness  to  aid  the  Spanish  fleet 

When  belching  guns  announce  that  foemen  meet. 


48 


Then  on  they  steamed,  Olympia  in  front 
To  clear  the  way  and  bear  the  battle's  brunt, 
With  Baltimore  and  Raleigh  steaming  next. 
While  Petrel,  Concord,  Boston  and  the  text 
That  taught  proud  Spain  the  question  vexed 
Of  death  unto  her  power  upon  the  seas, 
Of  heedless  ears  unto  her  crafty  pleas. 

The  Spanish  guns  began  the  mad  refrain, 

And  Spanish  guners  worked  with  might  to  gain 

A  quick  advantage  o'er  our  jackies  true, 

Who  silent  stood  and  anxious  glances  threw — 

While  nearer,  nearer  to  Spain's  ships  they  drew — 

To  where  their  officers  await  the  call 

Despite  the  storm  of  hurtling  shel  and  ball. 

At  forty  minutes  past  the  hour  of  five 

The  Yankee  crews  began  their  awful  drive 

Of  wel-sent  shels  into  the  Spanish  foes, 

Whose  crews  fought  on  or  died  in  frightful  throes, 

While  al  around  the  battle  onward  flows. 

And  cheer  on  cheer  betokened  skilful  blows 

The  Yankees  dealt  unto  the  Spanish  foes. 


49 


Then  from  the  shore  the  spark  flew  on  its  course 
That  caused  the  mines  to  wreak  their  direful  force,. 
But  Spanish  estimate  was  very  wide — 
The  mines  flashed  out  their  force  upon  the  tide; 
And  onward  to  their  work  our  cruisers  ride, 
While  thunder  of  the  crashing  armament 
Bespake  the  course  of  war's  destructive  bent. 

Ah !  see !  two  gliding  phantoms  quickly  start ; 
From  Bacoor  Bay  the  dreaded  launches  dart 
That  wield  torpedo  tubes — they  must  be  stayed— 
And  swiftly  rapid-firing  guns  are  played 
Until  the  dread  torpedo  boats  are  flayed; 
One  sank  amid  the  bursting  shels'  harsh  screech 
The  other  madly  flew  unto  the  beach. 

The  Spanish  flagship  bravely  sallied  forth, 

Olympia  engaged  the  foeman  wroth. 

Then  fore  and  aft  the  Yankees  raked  the  foe. 

Until  she  was  a  scene  of  frightful  wo — 

While  Spanish  skil  caused  them  no  deathly  thro — 

Then,  wobbling  like  a  senile  derelict. 

She  weakly  staggered  back  from  close  conflict. 


50 


Two  long  and  anxious  hours  they  drubed  proud  Spain, 

Until  her  ships  were  shambles  of  the  main, 

And  devastating  fire  had  spread  its  might 

To  ad  unto  Spain's  terrors  in  the  fight ; 

The  drifting,  sinking  cruisers  were  a  sight 

To  make  the  stoutest  heart  abhor  war's  hel 

And  long  for  everlasting  peaceful  spel. 

Three  times  around  our  ships,  in  grand  array. 

Upheld  the  flag  in  broad  Manila  Bay, 

And  then  their  crews  went  to  a  wel-earned  rest. 

While  cheer  on  cheer  announced  the  King's  behest — 

That  surging  life  stil  thriled  each  Yankee  breast; 

But  woful  scenes  of  desolation  rife 

They  left  to  tel  the  Spaniards  of  the  strife! 


Refreshed,  they  steamed  in  haste  to  end  the  fray, 
'Twas  nearly  noon  upon  that  first  of  May ; 
They  flew  along  the  Spanish  line  and  played 
Their  guns  in  quick  succession,  naut  dismayed, 
Until  the  Spanish  flags  no  longer  stayed 
Aloft,  and  noblest  part  of  Yankee  pride 
Was  spent  in  saving  men  from  strangling  tide. 


51 


But  stil  the  minor  gunboats  huged  the  shore 
And  seemed  to  slyly  hanker  for  more  war. 
The  Petrel  quickly  stild  their  rash  pretense; 
She  taught  the  minor  foes  some  common  sense, 
Thus  bringing  to  the  fleet  rare  recompense 
Of  wel-earned  rest  from  toil  and  daring  skil 
That  won  the  day  when  foemen  sought  to  kill. 


The  Stoker. 

The  grimy  stoker  plays  a  hero's  part 
Supplying  coal  into  the  cruiser's  heart; 
He  risks  his  life  to  gain  the  victor's  crown 
Without  a  hope  of  sharing  great  renown 

Of  daring  men  behind  the  guns. 

Then  here's  a  cheer  to  the  man  in  the  hold, 
For  loyal  heart  of  the  passer  of  coal, 

The  King  looks  down  from  His  Throne  of  rare  gold 
And  credit  gives  for  the  worth  of  his  soul. 


52 


The  Rough  Riders. 

"Our  flag  is  insulted !"  flew  fiercely  the  cry, 
From  freeman  to  freeman,  it  rose  to  the  sky. 
Like  surging,  wild  heat  its  fire  raced  in  the  veins ; 
'To  arms  V  was  the  call,  "strike  the  land  that  profane*. 
The  law  of  our  King,  and  then  scatter  the  grain — 
The  horde  of  vile  villains  who  sank  our  ship  Maine." 

From  east  to  west  it  rose  in  a  wail, 
From  north  to  south  it  beat  like  a  flail. 
In  streets  it  ran,  like  fire  was  its  breath. 
In  woodman's  hut  it  found  not  its  death. 
But  rose  in  might,  so  steady  its  roll, 
Its  call  aroused  each  worthy  son's  soul 
Who  loves  the  Red  and  White  and  the  Blue 
That  floats  o'er  land  of  brave  and  the  true; 
It  reached  our  sons  on  rolling,  wide  plains. 
And  found  brave  arms  to  bear  its  harsh  chains ; 
Then  "Teddy"  Roosevelt,  knowing  their  worth. 
And  knowing  of  more  salt  of  the  earth 
In  manly  hearts  that  throb  in  fine  clothes 
Where  love  of  country  zealously  glows. 
Developed  them,  with  kindly,  firm  hand 
Into  a  troop  of  cavalry  grand — 
The  Rough  Riders. 


53 


Then  brave  Colonel  Wood  gave  the  word  that  them  sent 

For  country  united  on  Freedom's  cause  bent ; 

They  went  to  the  front  in  the  infantry  line, 

Their  martial  array  showed  a  discipline  fine; 

They  sang  in  a  way  that  all  hearts  felt  the  thril, 

The  "Star-Spangled  Banner"  of  plain  and  high  hil. 

In  covert  dense  the  Spaniards  in  wait, 

On  come  the  Riders,  skirmishers'  gait; 

From  top  of  La  Guasimas'  steep  hil. 

The  bullets  pour  with  deadliest  skil; 

Onward  they  press  with  nonchalant  grit, 

The  many  drop  so  f earf uly  hit ; 

They  sweep  the  foe  like  chaff  in  the  wind, 

These  fighting  Yankees,  all  of  one  mind; 

From  fiery  charge  the  Spaniards  then  fly. 

The  Yankees  praise  their  King  in  the  sky; 

For   "Forward,    Forward!"   you   hear   the   boys 

plead, 
No  matter  where  their  duty  may  lead; 
Their  line  goes  forward,  it  never  bends ; 
A  host  they  are  of  kindliest  friends, 
And  manly  tears  they  silently  weep 
When  covering  deep  their  dead  in  last  sleep — 
The  Rough  Riders. 


54 


Heroes  of  the  Merrimac, 


(Santiago  de  Cuba.) 

All  eyes  aloft  to  tlie  Flag  of  Stars,. 
With  red  and  white  interweaving  bars,. 
Now  duty  calls  for  a  deed  to  ring 
In  history's  pages  and  make  bards  sing; 
No  man  afraid  to  meet  Him,  our  King, 
Need  ask  to  go  thru  the  fiery  hel 
Of  solid  shot  and  the  bursting  shel. 


Too  many  heroes  plead  hard  for  place 
Upon  the  Merrimac  when  she'll  race 
Fast  o'er  the  mines,  under  frowning  forts. 
To  block  this  flower  of  the  Cuban  ports; 
Can  they  outwit  the  bold  dons'  cohorts? 
Death  hath  no  wos  for  the  fearless  tars 
Who  do  and  dare  under  Stripes  and  Stars. 

Thru  darkening  mist,  just  before  the  dawn, 
They  steam  away,  no  heart  is  forlorn; 
Nine  noble  sons  to  attempt  the  deed. 
To  lay  down  lives  for  their  country's  need ; 
All  fame  and  glory  to  such  pure  seed, 
Which  upward  soars  to  heroic  height 
And  cares  for  naut  in  its  righteous  might. 


55 


The  guns  then  flash  with  their  fitful  glare, 

The  roar  comes  quick  to  their  shipmates  there, 

Who  peer  and  listen  to  learn  their  fate 

While  steaming  for  Santiago's  gate, 

*Mid  hissing  shels  of  mad  Spanish  hate  ; 

Stil  on  they  go  toward  the  destined  spot. 

From  stem  to  stern  raked  by  shel  and  shot. 

All  firing  ceases,  the  deed  is  done. 

The  race  is  o'er  and  the  goal  is  won ; 

The  sunlight  comes  with  its  cheering  gleam, 

But  are  our  jackies  within  its  beam — 

Those  heroes  picked  from  the  Nation's  cream, 

And  one  brave  soul,  who  had  stowed  away 

To  help  them  on  in  their  deadly  way? 

Soon  comes  the  news  that  all  are  alive, 
Two  only  hurt  in  that  deadly  drive; 
Cervera  sends  in  the  trusty  hands 
Of  his  chief  officer,  sealing  bands 
That  bind  so  close  the  brave  in  all  lands. 
The  joyful  tidings  that  every  brave 
Is  safe  from  death  in  a  watery  grave. 


56 


COMMODORE    GEORGE    DEWEY 


COL.    THEODORE    ROOSEVELT 


Colonel  Theodore  Roosevelt. 

In  front  of  charging,  sweeping  host — 
The  boys  who  are  the  Nation's  boast — 
Rode  Roosevelt,  leader,  brave  and  true, 
To  him  the  Nation's  meed  is  due. 
His  horse  stopd  short  in  miry  soil, 
The  Spanish  fence  ceased  equine's  toil. 
But  off  he  sprang,  with  cheering  call, 
And  led  them  thru  the  battle's  thrall. 


The  Vesuvius. 

Thou  engine  of  destructive  might. 
Whose  frightful  flame  lights  up  the  night. 
Whose  smashing  force  disrupts  the  rocks, 
Thou  art  a  source  of  earthquake  shocks. 


Troop  C,  Ninth  U.  S.  Cavalrv. 

In  that  mad  race  with  Death 
They  charged  with  bated  breath; 
The  colored  troop,  with  gallant  rush, 
Advanced  the  Spanish  foe  to  crush, 
And  up  the  hil,  San  Juan  its  name, 
They  led  the  charge  of  world-wide  fame. 

61 


Spain. 

Rich  talents  rare  gave  God  to  greatest  Spain, 
She  hauty  grew  in  her  corrupt  disdain ; 
She  lost  her  prestige  on  the  Spanish  main. 
Oppression  ne'er  unearthed  a  plan  that  pays, 
No  nation  gains  which  for  amusement  slays 
And  finds  no  time  to  mend  her  evil  ways. 
Her  soldiers  were  as  brave  as  braves  could  be. 
Her  sailors  fought  right  wel  upon  the  sea — 
They  needed  naut  but  right  to  make  her  free. 
She  ruled  her  hosts  with  rasping  iron  hand, 
She  sought  to  keep  a  royal  conscript  band 
And  would  not  Hsten  to  our  God's  command. 
Then  province  after  province  slipped  away, 
And  blindly  on  she  struggled  in  dismay; 
She  would  not  see  the  dawn  of  Freedom's  day. 
But  God  is  stronger  far  than  kings  or  lords. 
He  conquers  quick  the  wrong  with  smiting  swords 
And  sweeps  away  the  vaunting,  bestial  hordes. 


62 


The  Way  Our  Pathers 

Saw  Their  Duh/. 

Our  fathers  fought  for  homes,  and  treasures  true, 

Such  heroes  bold  would  have  naut  else; 
"All  honest  men  are  equal  when  true  blue/' 

That  was  their  standard,  nothing  else; 
They  held  that  blood  was  purest  when  no  taint 

Of  cowardice  was  found  therein ; 
And  they  who  fought  with  hearts  that  knew  no  faint 

Should  reap  reward  for  slaying  sin. 

The  mantle  of  the  citizen  for  all, 

From  workingman  to  plutocrat, 
Unless  we  yield  to  satan's  drear  pitfall, 

When  poor  shal  fare  like  autocrat; 
For  all  must  toil,  from  humblest  one  to  sage, 

All  earthly  hopes  end  in  the  grave, 
And  flaunting  titles  rare  upon  Life's  page 

Do  not  reveal  the  modest  brave. 


63 


The  gallant  lads  who  sail  the  ocean  blue 

Encounter  storms  upon  their  way, 
But  manfuly  they  strive  while  binding  true 

The  nations  close  in  peaceful  sway ; 
And  when  red  war,  with  rending,  frightful  cloud, 

Comes  roaring  on  to  tear  the  foe, 
It  finds  the  jacky,  fearless,  calm  and  proud, 
To  meet  the  blast  for  weal  or  woe. 


Each  valiant  son  who  loves  the  Stars  and  Stripes 

A  soldier  true  shal  be  to  fight 
The  battles  of  his  native  land  when  jars 

Of  war  endanger  Freedom's  might; 
To  plowshare  turn  the  musket,  cannon,  sword. 

When  war  is  o'er  and  peace  Is  won  ; 
Dictator,  king,  or  duke,  or  earl,  or  lord. 

No  name  shal  make  a  noble  son. 


One  hundred  years  and  more  have  passed  away. 

And  heroes  fair  have  braved  the  fray; 
We  stronger  grow  and  better  day  by  day, 

And  virtue  seek,  altho  we  slay; 
In  God  we  trust,  in  mercy  have  our  hold. 

And  conscious  are  of  path  to  hew 
To  reach  the  Cross  of  sinners — purest  gold — 

Which  stands  for  all,  and  not  the  few. 


64 


New  York's  Heroic  7 1st. 

The  first  to  enlist, 

The  first  in  the  line, 

The  first  in  the  field, 

They  charge  in  the  van. 

They  alway  resist. 

These  soldiers  so  fine. 

Their  lives  are  a  shield 
To  Yankeeland's  clan. 


New  York's  great  heroes,  can  more  be  said. 
You  who  have  died  and  so  nobly  bled, 
Than  soaring  cheers  to  your  mighty  tread, 
As  you  sweep  with  resistless  might 
To  the  top  of  a  frowning  height 
And  keep  close  your  comradeship  tight. 
Or  march  down  our  peaceful  streets, 
'Mid  the  Nation's  joyful  meets. 
Marking  time  to  drummer's  beats? 


65 


Can  we  of  jewels  give  you  and  gold, 
The  hauty  emblems  of  mean  and  cold, 
Who  for  their  shine  have  our  country  sold 
Far  too  often  to  suit  the  brave. 
Who  mount  war's  wild,  destructive  wave 
To  earn  glory  or  early  grave, 
Or  is't  best  to  be  our  love, 
Kindly  true  as  turtle  dove, 
Fiercely  strong  as  battle's  glove? 


Go  on  in  might,  with  your  fearless  hearts, 
In  ways  of  war  and  the  peaceful  arts; 
We  hold  a  place  in  our  busy  marts 

Where  you'll  find  richest  treasure  rare 
To  impart  to  old  age  good  care, 
And  thus  find  our  love's  rarest  fare; 
Petty  mortals  never  turn 
Our  rich  love  from  Freedom's  urn, 
Where  unceasing  fires  e'er  bum. 


66 


Cervera's  Crushing  Defeat. 

(July  3t  J 898,) 

In  annals  of  the  sea 
The  tale  wil  thril  the  free 
In  many  cHmes. 

In  single  file  they  steamed  from  port 
In  desperate,  last  mad  resort 
To  gain  the  sea,  escape  to  Spain, 
Recoup  once  more  and  try  again, 
And  hope,  next  time,  for  better  luck 
Afighting  Yankee  skil  and  pluck. 

Cervera,  of  renown. 
Was  beaten,  foot  to  crown. 
For  Spanish  crimes. 

The  Yankee  fleet  was  in  the  way. 

The  Yankee  guns  began  to  play 

A  tattoo  hard  on  Spanish  ribs 

That  smashed  away  the  steel  in  dribs; 

At  last  it  reached  their  cruisers'  hearts 

And  made  fit  prey  for  Yanke  parts. 


67 


The   Spanish   ships  ashore, 
By  Yankee  shells  sore  tore, 
Ring  loud  our  chimes. 

The  news  that  flew  to  Freedom's  land 
Was  birthday  gift  to  Nation  grand — 
A  gift  unto  our  natal  day, 
When  cannons  boom  and  children  play. 
And  rockets  blaze  in  starry  night 
To  celebrate  our  Nation's  might. 


The  Men  Behind  the  Guns. 

Then  Commodore  gave  speech,  in  kindly  way, 
"You  are  the  boys  who  won  the  deadly  fray ; 
To  men  behind  the  guns  is  credit  due 
For  sterling  skil  that  hauty  foeman  slew." 

"A  victory  that's  large  enough  for  all," 
Thus  spake  the  Commodore  at  duty's  call ; 
No  selfish  thought  unhinged  his  judgment  rare, 
"To  men  behind  the  guns,"  he  did  declare. 

It  takes  far  more  than  cranky  discipline 
To  make  a  cruiser's  crew  fight  hard  to  win, 
For  men  wel  know  the  credit  rarely  goes 
To  those  who  toil  to  crush  a  country's  foes. 

68 


COMMODORE    WINFIELD    SCOTT    SCHLEY 


Santiciflo. 

To  Santiago  they  are  bound, 

Altho  the  dead  may  strew  the  ground; 

They  boldly  land  on  Cuba's  shore 

To  gain  more  wealth  for  Freedom's  store. 

The  torrid  sun  sends  down  its  blaze 
To  ad  to  thirst  and  hunger's  craze ; 
The  weeping  clouds  pour  chily  rain 
To  ad  to  suffering's  long  train. 


The  gallant  boys  contest  each  mile ; 
They  work  with  wil  or  hours  beguile 
As  soldiers  do  the  weary  hours 
That  come   between  the  battle's  showers. 

Along  the  line,  thru  tropic  brush, 
They  chase  the  foemen  with  a  rush. 
Until  the  Spanish  flag  comes  down 
And  upward  flies  our  Starry  Crown. 

It  was  a  sight  that  wel  repaid 
The  toilsome  march  thru  muddy  glade, 
It  was  a  sight  to  cheer  the  heart 
Of  heroes  grand  for  Freedom's  part. 

71 


In  Meinoricim. 

Ye  sons  whose  precious  l^lood  was  shed, 
Who  nobly  fought  and  sadly  bled 
To  strike  the  shackles  from  the  wrists 
With  mighty  blows  of  brawny  fists. 
We  mourn  your  loss. 

Xo  marble  shaft  can  wel  repay 
The  worth  of  your  enraptured  clay ; 
Your  onward  spirit  numbs  the  pain 
Or  fights  the  rush  for  sordid  gain 
And  golden  dross. 

Within  our  dreams  we  hear  the  tramp 
Of  mighty  hosts  in  Freedom's  camp ; 
We  see  the  lightning  of  the  age 
Astriking  down  the  narrow  gage 
Of  rotten  thrones. 


Your  loyal  blood  hath  won  the  .soil 
Of  Spanish  dons  by  weary  toil. 
But  only  Christ  can  cleanse  the  guilt 
That  centuries  of  sin  hath  built — 
1  lis   1)100(1  atones. 


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